


Columbine

by midnightweeds



Series: Bloom [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Blindfolds, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gags, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kissing, Obsession, Prisoner of War, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 22:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15496011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightweeds/pseuds/midnightweeds
Summary: no relation to school shootingHer fingers drew across his chest, against fresh wounds. He flinched but didn’t falter.I negotiated to keep you.There was no negotiating with Voldemort.





	Columbine

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> _it bloomed, anxious and trembling_  
> 

“Well, well, well.” **  
**

Hermione felt herself cringe on instinct. She blinked repeatedly, but all she saw was darkness as footsteps closed in or her.

His breath brushed her face just a moment before his finger did. “I didn’t think it was true.”

His wand trailed up one arm, loosening the bonds at her wrist before trailing down the other. Without the support, she sagged  into him. Over the moldy scent of the cellar, and beneath the smell of decay that clung to Death Eaters, Cormac still smelled like sun and cologne. She hated herself for the comfort it leant her.

But, it’d been at least a week since she’d been near to anyone she knew.

He chuckled, body flexing to support her weight, but made no further effort to touch her. They stood like that for a moment: Hermione too weak to support herself, Cormac enjoying the weight of her. The stillness draped over them both like a warm embrace.

His finger ghosted down the bridge of her nose. “What are you doing here, Granger?” He questioned gently.

She didn’t have an answer for him, but even if she had, the gag in her mouth stopped her from talking. She’d screamed herself dry days ago, anyway.

He brushed her eyes with his thumbs. “They’re going to kill you, you know? What a shame.”

With another brush of his thumbs, the darkness lifted, and Hermione blinked blearily, eyes squinting as she looked up at him. The only light in the room came from somewhere behind him, but she’d been free the last used her eyes for anything. It felt ridiculous to be looking at him, of all people.

Cormac was the same as he’d always been, just older and sharper. His green eyes seemed too bright to her, undulled by whatever had caused him to leave their side and join Voldemort. His lips pursed in thought, thumbs brushing back and forth across her cheeks.

“What a shame,” he murmured again, mostly to himself.

She wished that he instead told her he was going to get her out of here. That he was still for the Light, even with the Dark Mark on his arm.

“I wonder,” he continued, stepping away from her.

Please, she thought to herself, watching as he left. Her weight strained against her wrists and shoulder, legs unable to support herself. But, he left just as quickly as he came.

She wasn’t sure when she’d passed out, but suddenly Cormac was before her again, the light behind him duller as he supported her body with his. He was a blur as he filled her vision, green eyes peering down at her.

“Malfoy is here, running your vitals. He’s going to give you something to make you feel better.”

“Silence her,” Draco’s voice filled the air, disturbingly dour.

Cormac’s magic felt hot against her skin, and suddenly the gag was gone, but she still couldn’t speak.

Draco held her mouth open, placing a tab on her tongue. “Let it melt.”

In comparison, Draco’s magic was a cool brush, a healing touch she hadn’t expected. He still looked like his old self when she looked at him, his pale eyes watching her guardedly. For a moment, he inspected her face, gaze tracing over every inch of it, and then he looked into her mouth and let go of her jaw. “Swallow,” he demanded.

He touched Cormac’s shoulder as he turned to leave, leaning in to whisper something. The blond of their hair met, like the sun and stars, as something unseen was exchanged.

“I will,” Cormac suddenly said, and then Draco was gone.

Cormac gazed down at her, a small tilt to his lips. Hermione felt the swell of anxiety blooming within her, felt it bubbling over in her chest. It was the most she’d felt in days, and it left her trembling.

“It’ll pass,” he told her. And then, “I can’t get you out of here. But, I can save you.”

His fingers trailed her skin, the ghost of magic on them. She felt her mind sharpening- focusing on him. There was an arm around her waist, his body dwarfing hers: his hips braced her torso, her face to his chest. He was warmer than the thick, muggy summer air around them, the scent and feel of him hypnotizing.

She turned her face up to him. She tried to ask what Malfoy had given her, but she had no voice.

He rubbed her back, large hands seeming to fill every inch of her. His palms were hot through the thin fabric of her robes, distracting her. “It’ll pass,” he said again, voice lower.

It vibrated through her, touching every dark space within her.

“Do you want me to save you, Granger?” He stroked her face, gaze all-consuming.

She nodded, but didn’t know which way he meant it. Which way she meant. But, everything in the world was suddenly him.

A slow smile stretched across his face, adding to the warmth his voice had created within her. He stretched an arm over her head, and suddenly her arms were free. She slumped deeper into him, legs weak and arms aching as they hung limply at her sides, but it didn’t matter.

He gave a slight flinch, but his arms embracing her. “That’s a good girl.”

He magicked the chains at her ankles, freeing her feet before lifting her into his arms. There was a cot in the corner, against the same wall as the door she’d never seen, and he walked them over to it, sitting her down and propping her up against the wall. He knelt beside the cot, rubbing her thigh.

“They’d planned something worse than death,” he told her. There was a mixture of amusement and taunt in his otherwise quiet voice. A small, annoying smile played on his lips when her head lulled in his direction. “Your talent has always been your downfall, hasn’t it?” His magic touched her in what she recognized as a cleansing charm. “Despite your blood, they wanted to use you. I don’t imagine you need me to spell out how?”

She shook her head.

“I negotiated to keep you for myself,” he told her. “I would have had you even if you’d said no, but I appreciate your agreeance.” He took her face in his hand, lips baring his teeth in the bite of a smile when he felt her trembling. “You know I’ve dreamt this,” he continued, breath warm and sweet against her mouth.

“After the war. You and I.” His words hung in the air, stunning her.

And then he kissed her, lips a gentle brush, over and over, as though done in worship.

Hermione fought against the fog of desire in her mind, and it instead flooded her body, rushing through her tired, achy limbs until she was lifting her arms around his shoulders to pulling him closer. Until her lips were kissing him back.  _Survive_ , something told her.  _Control_.

A too hot hand smoothed up her hip and stomach, settling on her chest. His fingers curled around her shoulder.

_You know I’ve dreamt this,_  he’d said. It played over and over in her head.  _After the war. You and I._ Had he really spent all these years hungry for her?

The answer came as he climbed onto the cot, adjusting them so that she was laying on her back and he was leaning over her as they continued to kiss. She mimicked where he touched her, surprised when the actions seemed to inspire him.  _Survive,_  her subconscious again told her,  _Control._  Her body listened, fingers twisting in his curls and tugging; gripping at his robes; wiggling weakly against him.

“So I’ll keep you. And you’ll carry our children. Won’t you?” His teeth brushed her jaw, lips following. “And when it’s over, you’ll stay.” His mouth found hers again.

Their clothes vanished. His hips laid heavily against hers, the thick length of him difficult to ignore. Her legs yielded as he pushed at them with his knees.

He was saying something, but she could hardly hear him over the blood rushing in her ears. Over her heart pounding in her chest. She was still trembling, but he didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t in desire as he gathered her more surely in his large arms, kissing any and everywhere he could reach as the length of him found the embrace between her thighs.

Her fingers drew across his chest, against fresh wounds. He flinched but didn’t falter.  _I negotiated to keep you._

There was no negotiating with Voldemort.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasped, his tongue stroked hers.

“Tell me you love me.”

She looked at him, saw the desperation in his eyes, and wondered if she could have been anyone.

“Hermione,” he breathed, and she decidedly couldn’t have been.

His magic washed over her as he lifted the spell, and she heard herself moan, felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders. His green eyes were so alert and alive and aware as he watched her.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Yeah,” she drew her hand up his neck, bringing his face closer to hers.

Her voice was a rasp he seemed to find solace in.

_Survive._

He learned into her touch.

“I love you.”

_Control._

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my tumblr, honeyweeds
> 
> thank you for reading<3


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